


Tears in Heaven

by MikiMaki



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Takes Care of Aziraphale (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, M/M, Post-Canon, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Tragedy, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26392459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikiMaki/pseuds/MikiMaki
Summary: Completely helpless, Crowley tightened his grip on his husband, hiding his face in the blond, curly hair and inhaling his familiar scent; he smelled like Spring, like freedom and all the good things in the world. It was exactly how happiness was supposed to perfume, in his mind.Aziraphale shivered in his arms: "I am so scared, Crowley... of what's next."Crowley loves Aziraphale so much he is gonna stay by his side till the very end.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 31





	Tears in Heaven

Angel?"

"Mhm?"

"Are you hungry? Shall I cook you anything?"

"No thanks, my dear... not really famished at the moment." Aziraphale smiled weakly; his thin, pale face was the only part of his body not engulfed under the double layer of blankets Crowley had put on top of him to keep him warm.

"Are you in pain?" he asked, noticing the slight tension of his lips.

"No. Well, j-just a tiny bit... it is bearable, though. Don't you worry." his voice was just a feeble whisper, as he was so exhausted he couldn't even speak louder.

Crowley thought by this point he would have been used to see his husband like that, but the truth was that it was a punch in the stomach every time; watching Aziraphale dying out slowly, eaten by that merciless disease was more than he could take.

He would have taken all his bad cells one by one to make them wholesome again if that was a possibility; he would have ripped his own heart out of his chest and offered it to him without any hesitation if that would have meant he could be healthy again.

He would have done  _ anything _ , given anything he had just for his angel to be safe and the awareness that  _ nothing _ could reverse the inevitable and slow process that human calls death was just overwhelming.

He sighed, caressing Aziraphale's face with gentle fingers, as he was afraid of breaking him; he tried to ignore the insistent itching sensation in his eyes and swallowed back tears. He promised to himself he would not cry, not again: he had to be strong for both of them.

"At least tell me what I can do to help you, please. I know that you don't like them... but I can give you those human painkillers, you won't be suffering." he said with growing despair.

Aziraphale shook his head slowly: "I would rather not to use them... they make me sleepy and I do not want to lose any more time... I'm okay, r-really."

Crowley could not avoid smiling, remembering how much his angel despised sleeping: It had been so hard for him after the Apocalypse-that-wasn't when they lost all their powers and had to learn how to live like humans to get used to it. Even if they had to change their entire lifestyle that was, by all means, the best time of their life; it had been like to be born again, learning habits according to their new needs, finding out the sheer joy of being finally  _ free _ to love each other without hiding away.

It had been quite challenging for him too, but the pure delight in Aziraphale's eyes every time he managed to persuade him in trying new food, since he actually had to eat now, was enough of a reward for him.

He suddenly found himself full of searing bitterness realising how the situation reversed in no more than a few months and flinched; now he had to beg his angel to make him take a spoonful or two of food, a desperate attempt of keeping him nourished enough.

No more romantic dates in ethnic restaurants thoroughly picked from the internet, no more urging Aziraphale to come to bed with him to have a good night sleep instead of staying up all night to read one of his books; now that even breathing was a challenge he was always so drained that he was sleeping most of the time. Crowley, on the other hand, could not rest anymore, too terrified by the idea that his husband could suddenly need him or, and this was his biggest fear, his weary body could finally give up while he was asleep.

After all, he did not need one of those doctors who'd been able to give them only bad news to figure out they were ruthlessly approaching the final stages, the  _ endgame _ ; he had lived enough, seen enough humans eaten up by the same disease to know that.

And while a part of him did not want to indulge in this thought but kept believing there was still hope, that some sort of miraculous healing would occur in the end, his rational mind was painfully aware that nothing similar could happen and that he must be prepared for what was fatally coming. 

"Please, angel. There must be something I can do for you... anything... " he begged in a high-pitched voice he did not even recognise as his own.

"Would you read for me, love?" his husband whispered, exhausted. 

"Sure, Zira. Anything you like." 

Glad to be finally able to do something he immediately picked up a book from the nightstand and opened it where he'd left the previous evening. 

Since Aziraphale had become too weak and tired to read on his own he often asked Crowley to do it for him; the book was an old classic and surely the angel already knew it by heart, but nevertheless, he was hanging from his husband's lips as he was listening to it for the first time, flying on the wings of his fantasy to another world where he could shelter from the pain for a few moments.

Crowley, for his part, was just happy to help him in every way he could and even if he'd never been particularly good at reading he was trying his best.

He started reading out loud, focusing on keeping his voice as steady as possible; seated on a chair next to the bed where his angel was laying down, he was holding the book with one hand while the other was clutching at Aziraphale's bony and cold one, drawing delicate circles on the back of it with his thumb.

The last rays of the dying sun were filtering through the window of their cottage, lightening the room with its orange glow, Crowley found himself thinking it would be so beautiful to be able to watch the dusk outside this evening; maybe, in a world turning in the right way, they would have been in their garden now, enjoying the amazing sight of the sky at that special hour of the day as they did so many time before since they left London's chaos to hide in the countryside. Aziraphale belonged there, in his arms, looking at the sunset as the light reflected in his stunning blue eyes and made them sparkle, safe and sound in the wonder of their new life, and not in that bed, struggling to breathe and worn out from the pain: that was  _ deeply unfair _ . 

Crowley swallowed the knot of tears he felt forming in his throat and kept on reading, trying to control the shivering that threatened to make him crumble. 

The sky was getting darker every moment beyond the big window and soon enough he was leaning forward to switch the bedside lamp on; he suddenly noticed Aziraphale was staring at him with watery eyes.

"Ehi, you're right?" he asked full of concern; he set the book aside to cup his husband's cheek, wiping away a single tear which had slipped through his blond lashes.

Aziraphale leaned in the touch, smiling: " Yes dear... I j-just... I just love the sound of your voice. And I love you... immensely."

Crowley could not avoid smiling in response, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

"And I love you so much, my angel. More than I can say. More than anything else in the whole world." he murmured tenderly.

"I want you to know..." the angel carried on, trying with a huge effort to catch his breath. "You made... my life... worth living... "

"Shh, it's okay Zira. Don't exert yourself." he said, still caressing his face.

"No, I want to tell you..." Aziraphale coughed, tears started streaming down his pale cheeks. "How sorry I am... t-that I have... to go away..."

He just could not bear to see his husband crying, it was more than he could take: without hesitation, he climbed on the bed next to him sitting down against the headboard and gently taking him into his arms, taking care to not hurt him, so he could sustain him but still see the angel's face.

"I know, angel. I would give anything I have to stop all of this and keep you with me..." his voice was now shaking out of control.

Aziraphale's eyes were locked on his, gazing at him with a heartbreaking depth,  _ bursting _ with everything they shared in six thousand years together. He was holding onto him with all the strength he had left, as he was his lifeline.

"I don't want you to... t-to feel guilty for anything. You've been... the best thing that... ever happened to me." every single word was a huge struggle for him but his gaze was full with resolution. 

Crowley stopped fighting back the tears that were sharply choking him, he let them stream freely down his cheeks, dampening the curtains surrounding his husband; he could feel there were no turning back now.

During the past few months, the overwhelming guilty feelings growing in his mind had almost crushed him, he was blaming himself for this whole situation; in his eyes, it was like Aziraphale's body was somehow rebelling against the feeling his husband had for him because an angel should  _ never _ love a demon, even if they were only humans now.

Those thoughts were overcoming him to the point he just wanted to scream till his throat was sore and bleeding, to tear out his hair, to  _ obliterate _ himself.

He could not precisely recall how many times in the last days he had prayed a God who already rejected him once to take him instead of his husband; he would gladly take all that pain and suffering upon himself if that would mean Aziraphale could live.

"If you did not renounce Heaven to be with me, you would be safe now..." he moaned, unable to hold it back anymore.

His angel spoke again, with visible effort: "You made me so happy... in every moment... I would rather have... a brief human life... with you on Earth... than an Eternity alone in Heaven... all over again." His words were just a broken whisper because of his laboured breath. 

Completely helpless, Crowley tightened his grip on his husband, hiding his face in the blond, curly hair and inhaling his familiar scent; he smelled like Spring, like freedom and all the good things in the world. It was exactly how happiness was supposed to perfume, in his mind.

Aziraphale shivered in his arms: "I am so scared, Crowley... of what's next."

"Don't be afraid, angel. I'll find you anywhere you will be and we're going to be together eternally, I promise." He tried his best to sound reassuring but the constant flow of tears from his eyes was making it hard. "Y'know, I'm kinda sure our Head Offices had enough of the two of us... They're going to find a spot far away from everything else, just for you and me." he added, murmuring in his angel ear.

His husband smiled softly, blue eyes filled with fondness: "Like... l-like in the Eden." He tried to take a deep breath but produced only a strangled gasp.

Crowley kissed him again, grinning despise the sorrow: "Yeah, just like in Eden! But this time I will kiss you straight away, I will not lose any time. I loved you from the first second I saw you, on the wall of that Garden confessing so frankly that you disobeyed Heaven's orders... Well, I'm sure I've already told you this story a thousand times."

Aziraphale raised a trembling hand to cup his cheek: "Tell me once more..."

So the demon started talking: he described the precise shades of blue of his eyes on that particular day, how they were sparkling like diamonds in the light of a brand-new sun, he outlined how impressed he had been noticing the total lack of fear in the angel in front of him: they were taught to loathe demons, but that blond Principality was not scared of speak to him as they were equal, smile to him as he really liked him. He depicted how that new burning feeling had blossomed in his heart all at once, it had been like lighting a match.

When Aziraphale become too weak to speak, he filled the silences carrying on with his story: he told him how he'd spent decades trying to stumble upon him in the most casual way possible, all the emotions awaken by those quick meetings that he would have liked to extend forever, even with the fear of being rejected.

A torrent of words was flowing from him, driven by the desperate urge to tell his life partner once again how essential he'd been for him, how much he'd loved him throughout his whole existence and that not even Death could ever change those feelings; he would never be able to find someone to take his place, not even walking the Earth for another six thousand years.

He spoke for what seemed hours while his throat was burning from tears; when Aziraphale's breath became nothing more than a laboured wheeze and he felt his body tensing up, eyes wide with panic, Crowley just held him tighter, cradling him and kissing his face in the attempt of soothing him.

"I got you, love. I am right here with you, just relax now... " he let out a tender whisper.

He carried on with his tale even if the grief was tearing his soul apart. He carried on because he felt he could shatter into pieces if he stopped.

He did not pause even when Aziraphale closed his eyes, slumping in his arms.

By that point, he had no idea what he was saying, he did not even know if he was still talking to his husband or himself, probably he ended up begging that God who was known to be merciful to save a small corner of his Creation for a rebellious angel and a kind old demon, so they could be together till the end of times.

He cried all his love to the empty room, shaken by sobs, rocking back and forth and clinging to his partner with desperation while Aziraphale's breath was getting weaker and weaker with every moment.

He kept holding onto him, watching as his tears were falling on the angel's pale face, unable to look away or stop talking; he was Falling once again but the pain he was experiencing now was never meant to cease. 

When Aziraphale exhaled one last time and remained still the words became an inarticulate scream, the hopeless wail of a beast in agony; his sorrow was coming in waves, drowning him with its intensity so he could not breathe, not even think. His only wish at that moment was to surrender to the grief, dive into the darkness and follow his angel wherever he had gone; lost in desperation, he fixed his eyes on the night sky visible through the window, looking for help or any sign.

The stars he had helped create, the ones he loved so much just stare at him, cold and imperturbable, without offering any comfort. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!  
> Thank you for reading this short, tragic story of mine. I tried to use all of my sensitivity and I really hope you enjoyed it. I know, it is quite sad and I got really emotional writing it.  
> English is not my first language and I am really doing my very best!, so please let me know if there is something wrong with it! I would love to know what you think about this story so feel free to leave a comment, I am really looking forward to have some feedback.  
> Kisses xx


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